by juliegd | Sep 19, 2016 | 2016, Europe, Portugal
I’m going to let you in on a secret: September is the best month to be in Portugal.
You see, every year there is this strange phenomenon. On August 31 the beaches are packed, heaving with tourists from Portugal and abroad, the queues to the ice cream parlors wrapping around the block, all restaurants booked out. Then on September 1st, silence. Peace. The heaving masses are replaced by the occasional family waiting for school to start or pensioners making the most of off-season deals.
One explanation is that most schools in Europe start up around September. But there’s something else. For Portuguese people, summer simply ends with the last day of August. It might be just as hot as the day before, but as of September 1st going to the beach is no longer an option. It is now autumn and summer activities need to wait until the next year. I remember a few years when I came to Portugal on holiday how tourist office staff smiled indulgently at me when I asked about surfing lessons in September. Didn’t I know the summer was over?
Luckily for us, even though the Portuguese people believe the hot days are gone, the climate thinks otherwise. Most years (or rather every year except 2015 which is marked in everyone’s memory as The Wet September) the sun continues to shine well into October and the only hint of autumn is the cold breeze that makes you wish you’d remembered your cardigan on the way out. The skies are still clear, the beaches are still warm…and the Atlantic water is as freezing cold as always.
September is the month I remember how much I love living in Portugal. August can feel quite frenzied: too hot, too sticky, too many people. In September, Portugal returns to its gentle rhythm. Restaurants have time to take care of their customers and without a steady influx of tourists take more care over your order. The streets are empty. There is no holiday traffic.
But this is the first year I’ve noticed a downside. Along with all the tourists, the other children have disappeared from the beaches and parks. I don’t know where they’ve gone – some probably live in countries far away, others have gone back to their home town, schools and daycare centers. I don’t really miss them that much, but I worry that my son does. He is now 2 years old and doesn’t go to school. Although he seems happy just in my company and we of course have lots of play dates throughout the week, I miss the spontaneity of playing with a 2-year old from Germany at the water fountain or running after a group of Portuguese older kids at the park. And as much as I enjoy an empty beach, I miss seeing other parents out with their kids. September makes it all too clear to me how my decision to keep my son at home deviates from the norm.
Sometimes I question my decision. I see my friends meeting each other for kid-free coffees in town, their kids telling stories from daycare…But then my son and I manage to sneak out to the beach on an early weekday morning and put the first footprints into the pristine sand. And I realize that, for me, these moments are still worth 100 quiet coffees.
How do you feel about back-to-school season? Do you sometimes wish your kid didn’t have to go to school (or vice versa if you homeschool)?
This is an original post for World Moms Network by Julie Dutra in Portugal.
Julie, her husband and baby boy are currently living in Portugal, having spent the previous three years in the southeast of Brazil.
She considers herself a bit of an obsessive reader, and even more so since discovering she was pregnant. All that information has to go somewhere, which is why Julie started her blog, happy mama = happy baby, where she documents all the quirky parenting ideas she has collected so far.
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by ThinkSayBe | Sep 16, 2016 | Advice, Being Thankful, Caring, Change, Communication, Family, Gratefulness, Happiness, Health, Identity, Independence, Life, Life Balance, Life Lesson, Memories, North America, Peace, Relationships, Respect, Responsibility, Responsibility, Stress, The Americas, ThinkSayBe, Time, USA, World Motherhood
The last time I saw my father was in March 1991. In July 2016, after 25 years and many more questions, I finally saw him again.
Leading up to the day he was coming, I kept wondering what it would be like to see him after so long. Would we both cry? Would I be happy, or mad, or something I didn’t yet know? So it was fairly perplexing to discover that I’d react as if I had just seen him the previous week.
My older brothers, my husband, my oldest niece and I picked him up along with my youngest brother, whom I hadn’t yet met. The airport was busy with people and taxi drivers bustling about, which made the experience kind of surreal, as if experiencing it from outside of myself with ‘Café sounds’ playing as mood music in the background.
We all hugged, got in our cars and drove to my mom’s house. I was really curious to see what my parents’ first in-person interaction in 25 years would be like. There were no fireworks and no war-like explosions; just hugs and excited happy voices.
I pulled my husband to the side later that evening and explained how weird it was to not feel anything extreme. How could I not want to cry from seeing my father and my youngest brother? How could I not want to yell in frustration for having so many questions left unanswered? In the end, I theorized that because I already knew that I wouldn’t be getting any answers, I was mentally and emotionally prepared for this very special encounter.
Although we were around one another here and there for about two weeks, it was only toward the end of my stay that my father and I had ‘the’ conversation. We were at the beach, and he was by the water, standing alone. I walked over to take a food order from him, and he said: “Listen, I am really sorry for not being in your life, but all that is in the past, and I hope we can move forward with a new life. Okay?”
I could see it was a difficult sentiment for him to get out, as he could barely look at me as he spoke. It seemed that he wanted to let me know how bad he felt, but he wasn’t going to get into it, whatever his reasons were.
All I could do, given where we were, was say “okay”, smile, and take his food order. On my way back to the restaurant at the beach I couldn’t help but analyze my response. I was a bit incredulous at myself, but I also knew this wasn’t the place to have ‘the’ conversation with my dad.
The sum of the experience, for me, was to learn that life presents us with a myriad situations in which innumerable people are involved. Sometimes we find the strength to ask questions to find closure, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we ask the questions and we get answers, and other times we don’t. What do we do then, when there are no answers but the answer-bearers are alive?
We can come up with as many solutions for this as there are people, but I found that my lesson was to let it go and agree that it’s all in the past.
Finding closure for yourself can be difficult, but if you pretend that there is no other way (for instance, if you wanted to ask Michael Jackson how many times he rehearsed The Man in the Mirror, you couldn’t do so, and you’d have to be at peace with that), then I believe you can put your mind to accepting that you can move on, taking your brain and your heart with you and have closure regardless.
What are some of your experiences in which you wanted closure but couldn’t get it? What did you do about it? Does it affect your parenting in any way?
This is an original post to World Moms Network by Sophia of ThinkSayBe. Photo credit to the author.
I am a mom amongst some other titles life has fortunately given me. I love photography & the reward of someone being really happy about a photo I took of her/him. I work, I study, I try to pay attention to life. I like writing. I don't understand many things...especially why humans treat each other & other living & inanimate things so vilely sometimes. I like to be an idealist, but when most fails, I do my best to not be a pessimist: Life itself is entirely too beautiful, amazing & inspiring to forget that it is!
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by Ibtisam Alwardi | Sep 15, 2016 | 2016, Africa and Middle East, Awareness, Babies, Caring, Domesticity, Gender, Ibtisam Alwardi, Middle East, Motherhood, Oman, Parenting, Post Partum Depression, Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Traditions, World Moms Blog
The moment I saw the title of the book, I knew what the author meant. It was as if it was written for me. Black Milk by Elif Shafak, renowned novelist from Turkey, is a memoir described as ‘a thoughtful and incisive meditation on literature, motherhood, and spiritual well-being.’
Although I enjoy reading, I am not good at writing book reviews. As a lover of books, I can talk about what I read with friends, who, like me, are still amazed by the creativity of authors. I find it easy to talk about my favorite books, and the stories that stick with me, ones that I will never forget. However, writing an objective book review is something I find very challenging. Yet with Black Milk, I believe I owe mothers out there. I owe them sharing what I gleaned from reading this groundbreaking book.
Shafak wrote about herself – but it could have been about me. Me, a mother who experienced postpartum depression; a new mother who felt at a loss, and who thought that she should not feel this way; a woman who stopped doing things for herself and thought that motherhood should be more than enough; a mother who experienced fluctuations in her feelings 100 times a day; a woman who did not really understand what was going on.
Black Milk describes those ups and downs encountered by many new mothers, especially those experiencing anxiety about the huge change they’ve embarked upon – those mothers who overthink things and believe that they should be able to control the world, and not stop and ‘relax’ for a moment and ‘blend’ with the world.
In the book, Shafak has many inner conversations with her ‘Thumbelinas,’ who each represent aspect of herself. These tiny ladies are constantly fighting, trying to overcome one another to be the dominant part of her personality. Shafak is very objective in writing about them, and instead of hating them, you feel the opposite. In writing about the competing characteristics within, she seeks to find some kind of unifying identity for herself.
Shafak writes about western female writers as well, including Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, and Alice Walker. She explores their lives, the way they found balance between being writers and mothers, or the way some of them chose one role over the other. In these women’s lives, Shafak seeks balance between her life as an artist, and her new life as a mother.
Being a mother and a writer means seeking some sense of self, besides the role of motherhood. The same applies to any personal career or decision a mother takes. Such a choice was not common in the West until recently, and it is still not acceptable in many eastern societies to this day. Thus this subject, though some might consider it a personal issue, is more of a political one that is affected by patriarchal societies. Elif Shafak does not make judgements, and why should she – this is a subject that has no right or wrong to it. The ability to choose and be respected for whatever choices you make should be totally acceptable.
Shafek’s book touched me, as a mother, a writer, and a woman. I really identified with her struggle, her experience with postpartum depression, and her personal crisis as she adapted to motherhood.
How do you find balance between your own personal well-being and the demands of motherhood? What books have inspired you on your journey?
This is an original post for World Moms Network by Ibtisam Alwardi of Oman.
Photo courtesy of Raúl Hernández González / Flickr.
Ibtisam (at Ibtisam's musings) is an Omani Mom of three, living in the capital city of Oman ,Muscat.
After working for ten years as a speech and language therapist in a public hospital, she finally had the courage to resign and start her own business. She had a dream of owning a place where she can integrate fun, play and 'books', thus the iPlay Smart centre (@iplaysmart) was born.
Currently she is focusing on raising awareness through social media about parenting, childhood, language acquisition. She started raising awareness on (the importance of reading) and (sexual harassment) targeting school-aged children.
Ibtisam enjoys writing, both in Arabic and English, reading and working closely with children.
She plans to write children books (in Arabic) one day.
Contact Ibtisam at ibtisamblogging(at)gmail.com.
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by Maureen | Sep 14, 2016 | Asia, Awareness, Being Thankful, Happiness, Indonesia, Parent Care
“But I feel guilty…” she lowered her gazed and we all sensed how difficult it was for her to admit that.
“Please don’t be.” One of the ladies chimed in.
“Yes, please don’t feel bad. It is completely OK to getaway from motherhood for a bit.” Another adds their encouraging words.
As I sat there with 9 other women, all from different backgrounds; We got to learn, to understand and build more compassion towards others during the Joyful Living Retreat. I realized how many mothers feel that way too and how much I can relate to what the other ladies were sharing.
The guilt.
The guilt that weighs on mothers whenever they decide to do something for themselves; Where does it come from? Is it from unrealistic expectations we impose on ourselves? That we are the main caretakers, the one who holds the family together? There seems to be this invisible high bar we moms set ourselves up for.
Clean tidy home, Pinterest-worthy meals for the family, crafty fun for the kids, baby sign language, anyone?
I have been there before.
In the midst of juggling and keeping everything together, I sadly lost myself. I Lost my bearings. When I was still married, I was a helicopter mom who couldn’t leave my boy alone without feeling anxious and worried even when the ex-husband encouraged me to do so. I can’t understand that period, as it was quite hazy and blurry.
It’s easy for us moms to give and give and give even more. It all comes naturally with the territory of being a mother, isn’t it?
It took me quite a long time to shed that same guilt from my dictionary. Actually, it wasn’t until I became a single mom that I realized how important my “me-time” really is. For my own sanity and for my child’s happiness, it is crucial to have a sane mother. Don’t they say happy moms will have happy children?
Now, I make sure I refuel my love tank by doing what I love and knowing how healthy it is to do so sets me free from guilt. It is not selfish! It is healthy to make time for us to do what we love, to enjoy life. We really can’t pour from an empty cup and to fill that cup I recognized I must allow myself to be the woman I really am. For me, this started with working out, with having coffee with friends sans kids, to traveling out of town (and out of the country) without my son.
By nurturing the real Maureen, I am nurturing the mother of my child and I truly feel I am a much better mother when I am happy.
I’m not saying that you should ditch your children and travel the world – although you could – but start small, go for that line dance class you’ve been wanting to try or join that yoga class.
As the Joyful Living Retreat came to an end, I hugged that new friend of mine tightly and wished her well. She looked happy, lighter and relaxed which what I wish all of my mom friends would feel.
How about you, ladies? What do you do for “me time”? Did you feel guilty for taking the time away from your family?
This is an original article by World Mom Maureen Hitipeuw
by Tes Silverman | Sep 13, 2016 | 2016, Social Good, Tes Silverman, The Advocates of Human Rights, Women's Rights, World Moms Blog, World Voice
As summer winds down in the United States, wardrobe choices become less of an issue. In other parts of the world, warm weather attracts beach goers and most women don’t have to worry about what bathing suits they wear – that is, until recently.
In Cannes, a new law was proposed by Mayor David Lisnard whereby women are banned from wearing burquinis or full-body swimsuits. The reason behind it? It is seen by the mayor as a symbol of extremism and the women wearing them, are perceived as flaunting their beliefs to a country that’s been through a rash of terrorist attacks in the past few years. According to the proposed ruling by Mayor Lisnard, “Beachwear which ostentatiously displays religious affiliation, when France and places of worship are currently the target of terrorist attacks, is liable to create risks of disrupting public order (crowds, scuffles etc) which it is necessary to prevent”.
France has had more than its share of terrorist attacks, including the ones brought upon them on July 14 in Nice during Bastille Day, and on July 26 in which a priest was senselessly killed. It is understandable that people in France would feel it critical to tighten their security measures, but how is banning what Muslim women wear to the beach a threat to national security? How is that any different from discrimination? What’s worse is the notion that what mainstream society sees as typical beachwear should be the only form allowed. Just because Muslim women prefer to wear swimwear that may not be considered mainstream, is that a reason to ban them from wearing what they feel is appropriate for them or worn out of respect for their religious beliefs?
Wearing a burquini gives Muslim women the same opportunity to enjoy the beach like so many others do. Even more compelling is that a burquini is worn not to foist any religious beliefs on us, but a way of enjoying the beach without compromising their beliefs. Their choice of what type of swimwear to use should not be seen as a plot to invite extremists, but should be seen as exercising their freedom of expression.
Since then, the ban has been overturned in thirty French cities by a French court as it’s been deemed as a violation of their human rights. While I am glad that the court decided to overturn this ban, why should any woman, Muslim or not have to fight for her right to dress the way she sees fit? I believe that no one should have to right to dictate how one should dress because they don’t “fit in” to what others consider as the norm. The burquini controversy may have been resolved, but there’s more work to be done if we, as a society want to change how different cultures are to be accepted just as they are.
Do you think the ban on the burquini is a human rights violation or does wearing one symbolize religious affiliation to extremism?
Read the original article here.
This is an original post by #WorldMom, Tes Silverman of The Pinay Perspective from New York for World Moms Network.
Picture Credit: Flickr
Tes Silverman was born in Manila, Philippines and has been a New Yorker for over 30 years. Moving from the Philippines to New York opened the doors to the possibility of a life of writing and travel. Before starting a family, she traveled to Iceland, Portugal, Belgium, and France, all the while writing about the people she met through her adventures. After starting a family, she became a freelance writer for publications such as Newsday’s Parents & Children and various local newspapers. Fifteen years ago, she created her blog, The Pinay Perspective. PinayPerspective.com is designed to provide women of all ages and nationalities the space to discuss the similarities and differences on how we view life and the world around us. As a result of her blog, she has written for BlogHer.com and has been invited to attend and blog about the Social Good Summit and Mom+Social Good. In addition, she is a World Voice Editor for World Moms Network and was Managing Editor for a local grass roots activism group, ATLI(Action Together Long Island). Currently residing in Virginia Beach, VA with her husband, fourteen year-old Morkie and a three year old Lab Mix, she continues to write stories of women and children who make an impact in their communities and provide them a place to vocalize their passions.
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